User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 10
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Ten "It wouldn't matter if you were twenty or a hundred and twenty, it would still be you I'd dream of." '' When she woke, it was dark. She knew where she was the moment she opened her eyes, but the near-complete absence of light unnerved her, as she didn't know how long she had slept. The moon shining through the tower window provided enough illumination for her to make out the shadows of furniture, and she remembered her wand was on the dresser. Rather than fumble her way across a dark and unfamiliar room, she Summoned her wand and used it to light the candles in the bedside-table lamp, then the candelabra that hung in the middle of the bedroom. She was about to cast a Tempus Charm when she noticed the antique cuckoo clock on the wall and smiled to herself; it was just like Albus to keep this funny Muggle artefact in his private quarters just as he kept one in his classroom. The clock read six twenty, which meant she only had ten minutes before she was late for dinner. She went to the bathroom, unsure if she should use his shower or not. She would have liked to make use of the prefects' bath again—truth be told, she was slightly sore—but there wasn't time. She stood under the water just long enough to wash the evidence of their lovemaking from her body. ''A messy business, this sex thing, she thought to herself, amused. She dried herself with a spell and dressed quickly. She had no comb or brush, so she smoothed her hair with another spell, with nearly adequate results, and hurried down to the Great Hall. She hadn't considered what it would be like to see him again in public after their tryst, and when she spied him taking his seat at the High Table, she felt a frisson of warmth flood her core. She hoped she wouldn't blush. Albus saw her hurry into the hall and marvelled at her poise as she strode confidently up to the table and took the seat opposite him. "Good evening, Professor," she said. "Good evening, Miss McGonagall." He watched with veiled amusement as she tucked into her meal with a gusto he had not seen before. She noticed him noticing and smiled into her plate. When he took a sip of water, she had to push away thoughts of what his lips had been doing only a few hours before. She sipped her own water to steady herself. "Well, Miss McGonagall," said Professor Merrythought, who was sitting just to Albus's left, "I trust your extra lessons are going well? Professor Dumbledore isn't being too hard on you?" Albus nearly choked on his venison when he heard Minerva reply, "Very well indeed, thank you, Professor. I feel I'm benefitting even more than I anticipated from Professor Dumbledore's body of knowledge and experience. I'm most grateful to him for agreeing to have me"—here she took another sip of water—"as his private pupil over the holidays." She is a wicked, wicked girl¸ he thought. Professor Merrythought nodded as though she had expected that answer. "And you, Professor Dumbledore," she said, "are you pleased with Miss McGonagall's progress so far?" "Very much so, Professor Merrythought," he replied. "She is, as you know, an incredibly gifted student." He had to bite his lip to keep from adding something about her talent with a wand. Careful, man, he warned himself. "Yes," said Merrythought. Turning back to Minerva, she said, "Miss McGonagall, if it is still your intention to apply to the Auror office after your graduation, I will be delighted to arrange an interview for you and provide you with a letter of recommendation. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be happy to do the same." He nodded, and Professor Merrythought said, "We'll meet to discuss it once term gets started again, but we shouldn't wait too long; we don't want to interfere with your revising for your N.E.W.T.s." "Thank you, Professor," Minerva said. "I appreciate your confidence in me. I'll look forward to speaking with you about it." Professor Merrythought nodded again and turned to speak with Professor Slughorn, who was talking with Tom Riddle about the importance of making good contacts while still at school. Professor Merrythought said, "In another two years, I expect to be having the same conversation with you, Mr Riddle, as I just had with Miss McGonagall. I don't know about you, Professor Slughorn, but I feel most fortunate to have taught two of the most talented students I have ever encountered, all within the space of a few years." "Hear, hear," answered Slughorn, lifting his glass of pumpkin juice. ~oOo~ After dinner, Minerva went back to the Gryffindor common room to read. After her brief exchange with Professor Merrythought at dinner, she had silently promised herself that she would not allow her love affair to distract her from her studies. She had finished the book Professor Dumbledore—as she forced herself to think of him in this context—had given her at their last lesson, and had started on the next when she heard someone come in through the portrait hole. Her heart gave a few extra beats when she saw it was Albus, and she wondered if that would always happen from now on. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," he said. "Not at all," she said, closing her book. "I just finished Tertium Organum. Ouspensky has some interesting ideas, but I'm not sure I understand them all. I'll probably need to read it again before I can digest it." "I had to read it several times myself before I could make sense of it," he agreed. "While the passages on the manifestation of consciousness in different beings seem most applicable to Animagus transformation, I suggest you pay more attention to what he has to say about forms of consciousness; it seems to me to be closer to the heart of what transformation really means." "Thank you, I will." He made a nervous adjustment to the neck of his robes. "I brought you something ... for any discomfort you might have," he said, holding out a small tin to her. "That's very sweet of you," she said, taking it. "I am a little sore." A hint of colour rose in her cheeks. "I'm sorry." "Don't be. I don't mind. It reminds me of us ... of what we did," she said. "It was lovely." "I thought so too." There was a moment of silence before he said, "Would you like to spend the night in my quarters? It will be the last opportunity for some time, as the other students will be returning tomorrow." He added, "We don't have to do anything ... we can just sleep, if you like." Her heart leapt again in her chest. "But I don't like, Albus," she said coming toward him, her voice low and soft. "As nice as this afternoon was, it wasn't nearly enough." She put her arms around his neck. "Is that so?" He tilted his head to kiss her neck. He stopped himself after a few moments, then whispered, "Why don't you get anything you need for the night, then join me?" She nodded and dropped her arms from his neck. "I'll see you in a minute, then." He slipped out the portrait hole, and she went to her dormitory to get a toothbrush and comb. She debated taking a nightdress and dressing gown but decided against it. She did take a fresh pair of knickers and used her wand to Shrink the items so they would all fit in the pocket of her cardigan. When he arrived back in his quarters, he heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure what she would say to his invitation; he had suspected she would be as eager as he was to spend time together before term began again, but he hadn't been sure she would be ready for more lovemaking, and he didn't want her to feel he was pressing her. Her response had reassured him on that point, however. Just as he lit the fire in his sitting room, he heard the knock. When he admitted her, he gestured her over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, saying, "I believe you expressed a wish to sit near the fire with me the other evening." "I'd like that," she said, and settled down next to him. He reached out and stroked her hair. "Would you like some hot cocoa? I usually have some before bed." "No, thank you. But you go ahead." He hesitated. "Er, perhaps not, actually. I'd have to call a house-elf, and although they don't tend to gossip—" "Oh, I see. I could just go into the other room." "No, no, my dear. I shall just content myself with you for this evening." He wasn't ready for the hiding to begin so soon, and he was damned if they'd do it in his own quarters. After a moment, she said, "This is going to be complicated, isn't it?" "I'm afraid so. I'm not accustomed to this kind of deception, and it will only get harder when everyone returns tomorrow." "I know." She forced herself to add, "If you don't want to continue, I will understand." "Shh, my love. I've made my decision. It's worth any inconvenience as far as I am concerned. We shall just have to be very, very careful." "Gods, Albus, but I do love you," she said, putting her arms around his shoulders. Hearing him say it like that—that he had decided she was worth the not-inconsiderable risk—suffused her with happiness and desire. He kissed her for a moment, but as she began to press herself to him, he broke contact with her mouth. "I do think we should talk a bit before you render me incapable of speech," he said with a wry smile. "All right," she said, sitting back. "Obviously, we will not have much time alone together once term begins again. Of course, we will have our Tuesday evenings and Saturday afternoons, but I do think we should reserve those for lessons. When there's time after lessons, we could spend more personal time together. But I don't want to short-change your education." "Nor do I." "I am sorry I cannot court you properly, Minerva." "Don't be. I've never had much use for flowers and dinner dates, anyway. I think I much prefer this more direct approach." "Perhaps," he said. "But I should like to do it, just the same. Maybe it's my age—" "Oh, don't start on that." "Does it truly not bother you?" He was not especially insecure about his age, nor about her obvious attraction to him, but he was curious about the workings of her mind. "Not at all. You're hardly an old man, Albus." "Many would say sixty-two qualifies as old." "For some wizards, maybe. But given what we know about magical power and aging, you are barely middle-aged." "Yes, but I can't think too many witches your age dream of finding middle-aged lovers." "I can't speak for other witches, but you are the only one I have ever dreamt of. And it wouldn't matter if you were twenty or a hundred and twenty, it would still be you I'd dream of." "I can't tell you how that makes me feel," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Show me, then," she said, putting her hands on his chest. They kissed hungrily for a few minutes until she murmured against his lips, "Mmm, I think I'd like to go to bed now." He kissed her again, and she added, "If that meets with your approval, of course." He said nothing but stood and gathered her in his arms, then carried her into the bedroom, opening the door with a wandless spell. "Would this be part of courting me, sir?" she asked. "No. This would be me showing you how much I want you." He set her on the bed, then joined her and pushed her down before rolling on top of her. She felt his desire for her, and it sent little pings of need through her, even before he began to stroke her through her clothes. "Wait," she breathed after a moment. He stopped what he was doing, and she gently pushed on his shoulders to indicate he should get off of her. "I think I should use the salve you gave me," she said. "Of course, I'm sorry." "Nothing to be sorry for. I just would rather not have to get up once we get started." She rose and went into the bathroom, removed her clothes and applied some of the ointment where she was tender, waiting for a minute for it to take effect. She supposed she could have asked Albus to do the honours, but she was still slightly shy, and she didn't want to remind him too pointedly that she had been a virgin when she had got up that morning. When she emerged, he had turned down the bedclothes and taken off his shoes, socks, and outer robe. She knelt on the bed beside him and began to unfasten his under-robe. He lay back against the bed and watched her. She ran her hands over his chest and pushed the robe from his shoulders. He leant up, and she helped him take it the rest of the way off. She ran her palms over the expanse of his chest again and leant down to kiss it. She wasn't sure if men liked to have their nipples sucked, so she ran her tongue over one. He didn't object, so she continued for a minute, then moved to the other side, as he had done with her that afternoon. She straddled him and pressed herself against his bare chest, enjoying how the wiry hair felt against her skin, and kissed him deeply. He put his arms around her and pulled her even closer. They held one another without moving for a few moments, enjoying the press of body to body, until his hips began an almost involuntary rocking against her warmth. The rough wool of his shorts rubbing her most sensitive parts was both arousing and painful. When she could stand it no more, she moved away enough to tug at his shorts. He lifted his hips to help her as she pulled them off. She pulled at his shoulders to coax him to roll over on top of her, but he held her fast and guided her to straddle him. He touched her as she moved on top of him, and she came apart a minute later, crying, "Oh! Gods, Albus, oh!" It was the most intense physical experience she had ever had. He watched her face as her pleasure consumed her, and was fascinated by the look of wonder and surprise that crossed her features. It was exquisite torture to remain still as she came back to herself and her breathing slowed. When he could stand it no more, he began to move against her. When he found his release, it sounded to her as if he was growling. After a few moments, he relaxed back into the mattress with a gasp, rubbing his hands gently up and down her back. They lay that way for a few minutes, just breathing together, until she whispered, "I need to get up for a minute. He kissed her, and she climbed off him and went into the bathroom. When she returned a minute later, he asked, "Are you all right?" "More than all right. I just had to use the loo," she said, surprised that she wasn't embarrassed to tell him. "Not sore?" "Not a bit," she answered, settling herself in his arms. After a minute, she asked, "Is it always that amazing?" He chuckled. "No, not always. But it helps to be desperately in love with your partner." After a moment, she asked softly, "And are you?" "Yes." She had to work hard to keep the tears that came to her eyes from falling. After a few minutes, his breathing became deeper and more regular, and she knew he was asleep. She shifted, trying not to disturb him, and rolled to one side. The sun peering through the gap in the curtains woke her the next morning. Albus was snoring lightly next to her. She smiled. She tried to lie still without disturbing him. She was not accustomed to sharing a bed with anyone, and she had had trouble sleeping that night, but she would not have changed anything. It was, she thought, the most perfect day she had ever had. Eventually she needed to change her position, and he stirred. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the agreeable sight of Minerva's face on the pillow next to him. "Good morning," she said. "Good morning. Did you sleep all right?" "Yes," she fibbed. "Thank you for letting me stay." "Oh, Minerva, I should be thanking you. I wish it could be every night," he said, stroking her cheek. "Mmm, me, too." She caught his hand in hers and brought it to her lips. They ended up making love one more time, this time with less urgency than in their first two couplings, although both were aware that their time together was growing short. When they were finished, he said, "And now, I'm afraid I must get up." Before he did so, he kissed her again and answered the question she had not spoken, saying, "I'll leave you a clean towel and flannel for the shower." Then he disappeared into the bathroom, and she heard the shower begin to run a minute later. She would have liked to join him there, but there would be time for that on another occasion, she hoped. He emerged a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around his middle, and it was all she could do to keep from leaping from the bed and tearing it from him. He seemed to know what she was thinking, because he said, "I'm expected to be right on time for breakfast this morning; the Headmaster noticed my absence yesterday and remarked on it." At her worried frown, he added, "Not a problem; I just shouldn't get into the habit, as Armando put it. I think he thought I had been drinking on New Year's Eve." "So you had," she said, reminding him of the whisky they had shared. He smiled. "Indeed. It would be as well for you to appear at breakfast too," he said, not needing to spell out the reasons; he knew she was aware of their precarious position as he was. As she rose and walked to the bathroom, he had to tear his eyes away. After breakfast, Minerva decided to have the long bath in the prefects' bathroom she had been wanting. When she finished, she took her time combing out her hair at the vanity she normally had to share with several other girls. As she looked at her face, she considered how different her life had become in just twenty-four hours—different, and yet so much the same. In another few hours, the other students would pour in from Hogsmeade Station, full of tales from their holidays, and she realised her life would go on much as it had over the past months; only she would know what an enormous change had been wrought just under the surface of it. It seemed to her that such a seismic shift in her being would have to find expression in her face, but as she looked in the mirror, she saw no sign to suggest that her world had suddenly exploded into paradox. It was now both far wider and narrower than it had been before, she thought. The possibilities that presented themselves seemed as endless as the fascinating twists and bends of her lover's mind—a mind she knew she could easily lose herself in exploring—and, of course, there was his body and the sensations it evoked, which was still a new and equally compelling revelation to her. And yet, it seemed her existence had been honed to a single pinprick of light that was Albus Dumbledore. She knew this was dangerous. She did not want to lose herself in him, so she would guard against it, she decided—keep something of herself for herself. He would surely want her to. Later, she would revisit these early days of their affair, and her naïveté would nearly take her breath away. But that was years away, and now she could see only her joy at loving him and being beloved of him. ← Back to Chapter 9 On to Chapter 11→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium